Like an Animal
by DottieP
Summary: Quinn makes a bet with Santana. Santana loses. But, really, it's a win-win for both of them. Same universe as "Seeing You for the First Time Again" et al.


**Like an Animal**

**Summary**: Quinn makes a bet with Santana. Santana loses. But, really, it's a win-win for both of them. Same universe as "Seeing You for the First Time Again" et al.

**Pairing**: Quinn/Santana

**Rating**: NC-17. It's smut.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own these characters, yada, yada, yada.

**Author's Note**: I have a couple of stories going on right now, but this idea popped into my head, so I figured I'd get it out.

_A Saturday afternoon, Chelsea_

The couple was heading home from seeing an exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art; Quinn had been drawing more lately and felt the need for some inspiration.

"Can we swing by Starbucks on the way home? I needs my caffeine," Santana casually asked.

Quinn grabbed her and stopped them in the middle of the sidewalk. "Are you serious? You had a huge coffee this morning and an espresso after lunch. How much damn caffeine do you 'needs'?" Quinn used her 'mocking voice' for the last word. They reached the corner where one of the many Starbucks was located in the neighborhood.

"Oh please. You know me; I'm an addict, sweetheart," replied Santana, playfully smacking Quinn on the ass before entering the coffee shop.

While Santana purchased her drink, much to Quinn's chagrin, the blonde sulked near the entrance, contemplating her girlfriend's 'addiction'. _This has gotten way out of hand. She needs to cut back at least. Her heart's gonna explode or something_.

Santana rejoined Quinn, sipping her drink with a very satisfied look on her face.

"Ready, gorgeous?" Santana asked, gracing Quinn with a beautiful smile. Quinn took her hand without saying a word and exited the coffee shop. As they walked in silence, Quinn mulled over how she could approach Santana's "little problem." Honestly, she wasn't overly concerned; it just annoyed her. Given that, she decided that she might be able to have a little fun.

"Since you readily admit that you're addict and you clearly don't think that it's problem, which, by the way, is contradictory, I have a proposition for you," Quinn said to the woman walking hand-in-hand next to her.

Santana looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. "I'm listening…" she responded quietly.

"I bet that you can't go 24 hours without coffee," Quinn turned to Santana as she said this, with her full-on Queen Bitch Smirk, something that she rarely used anymore. The gauntlet had been dropped.

"Seriously? Lame, Q. Lame." Santana rolled her eyes, but then, she paused. "What's on the table?" she asked mostly out of curiosity than anything.

"Well, if you win, meaning that you hold out, then you can do whatever you want to me," Quinn glanced at Santana. The brunette flashed a huge grin at Quinn.

"Oh, I like where this is going," Santana quipped.

Quinn half-smiled in return then continued, "If I win and you cave, then you have to do whatever I want." Santana only nodded, looking a bit fearful.

"Alright, I'm in. You're going down, Q," Santana boasted confidently.

"I might, depends on if that's what I want to do to you," Quinn winked and gave her girlfriend kiss as they headed up towards their loft.

####

Santana lasted almost ten hours; Quinn was actually impressed. The brunette made it through the rest of Saturday without incident. It was Sunday morning, and Santana tried—she really did—but she couldn't fathom starting her day without her precious Sumatra coffee.

They were sitting on the couch and reading the _Times_ as was their tradition on Sunday mornings. Santana looked up from the front section and across the couch to Quinn. "Alright, blondie, what's the damage? What are your plans for me?" Santana was curious and anxious in the very best way. She knew that Quinn could be exceptionally creative and always seemed to surprise her.

Quinn glanced up, canted her head, and tried to hide the smirk. "Well," she began, "I've been thinking. And, it's been a really long time since you've given me a lap dance." The blonde smiled, triumphantly. She held her hand up, as Santana was about to speak. "But I want something a little….different this time." Santana was about to protest, but Quinn silenced her again. "Here's how this is going to go down, Lopez. I will pick the outfit; you will wear it. I will also pick the song—one that you know—and you will strip for me. Then, you'll give me a lap dance. And, if I feel like it, I might reward you for a good performance." She beamed at a stunned brunette. Quinn got up to go make her preparations but stopped in front of Santana who stared off into the distance. The blonde leaned down and whispered, "Never make a bet with a Fabray." She punctuated her sentence with a nip at a tempting looking earlobe.

####

_Sunday night_

Quinn was very deliberate with the outfit and the song. She wanted to make a point but really she just wanted to relish in the performance. She knew Santana would bring it because Santana knew that Quinn would 'reward' her—she wouldn't be able to help herself.

Now, Quinn sat on their extra large couch, waiting for her show. Santana was in the bathroom making small adjustments to her outfit. She was nervous. _What the hell? I've done this before. Why the fuck am I nervous?_ She knew why. It was Quinn: the woman who could see into her soul, who knew what she was thinking before she said it, who could barely touch her and still make her soaking wet. She looked one last time in the mirror and dug deep to recall that cockiness that old school Santana used as armor. She needed a small dose of that now.

Quinn heard the heels click on the hardwood floor and readjusted her posture to prepare herself for what she knew was coming (well, besides her). Santana stopped behind Quinn and leaned in to her ear. "You ready?" she growled. Quinn gulped and only nodded in response. Santana slid her hands seductively along the back of the couch; Quinn's eyes followed her and then she looked up to finally see her.

Now, Santana was standing in front of her. She had moved the coffee table so she had full use of the living room. She hit play on the IPod dock. The familiar slow, deep bass started, and Quinn inhaled as she drank in Santana. The blonde had asked Santana to bring out "Naughty Dr. Lopez": Santana had her hair up in the requested loose bun; her tortoise shell glasses were poised on her nose; the form-fitting Chanel suit (per Quinn's request again) hugged every one of Santana's delicious curves, and the deep red blouse was unbuttoned just enough for Quinn to catch a healthy glimpse of tempting cleavage. The 4-½ inch black patent leather heels, the Gucci heels (the 'Huston' high heel platform Mary Jane pump) that Santana only wore on special occasions, were just the icing on the cake.

Santana turned her back to Quinn and moved her hips to the thumping beat of one of Quinn's favorite guilty pleasure songs—"Closer" by Nine Inch Nails. For some reason, the bass of the song just did something to the blonde. Now, it wasn't just the song; it was "Naughty Dr. Lopez" moving her perfect ass to the erotic beat.

_You let me violate you_

_You let me desecrate you_

_You let me penetrate you_

_You let me complicate you_

Santana spun around and started undoing the jacket buttons. She slowly pulled it off and tossed it flirtatiously at Quinn. She pivoted on the toe of one shoe, showing Quinn her back again, canting her hips back a bit as she moved her flawless ass to the beat once again. She started to tug the crimson blouse out of the skirt.

_Help me_

_I broke apart my insides_

_Help me_

_I've got no soul to sell_

She turned again and stalked towards Quinn, yanking at the clip holding her hair, shaking her thick, dark hair loose, tossing the glasses to the far side of the couch, and unbuttoning the shirt, starting from the bottom, slowly moving upwards. When she reached the final button, she extended one leg up on the couch just grazing the outside of Quinn's trembling thigh. Santana circled her hips seductively at the very aroused blonde in front of her.

Quinn fought the urge to run her hands over the strong leg that was so close. She did slide forward a bit and when she did, she could instantly smell Santana…and see her. _Mmm, she did listen. No underwear. Good girl._ It took every ounce of will power to not dive into Santana's clearly wet pussy. She restrained herself, wanting to see what Santana would do.

_Help me_

_The only thing that works for me_

_Help me get away from myself_

_I want to fuck you like an animal_

On the last line, Santana ground her hips closer to Quinn, pulling her skirt up firm thighs as she did. Quinn moaned and licked her lips—Santana's movements hypnotized her. As the beat picked up slightly, Santana knelt the one leg that was already on the couch next to Quinn's side and then fully straddled the blonde. She still moved her hips to the beat, but now, Quinn could feel it, and she moved her hands up thighs that were now touching hers. The skirt was hitched up, and Quinn could see even more of Santana, causing her mouth to water. Santana then softly sang the next lines, wrapping her arms around Quinn's neck, giving the blonde a close-up of very inviting cleavage.

_I want to feel you from the inside_

_I want to fuck you like an animal_

_My whole existence is flawed_

_You get me closer to God_

Quinn whimpered when Santana pinned her with a meaningful look as she sang the last line. "Fuck, Santana," Quinn whispered. While still holding the blonde's gaze, Santana unhooked her bra and tossed it pointedly over Quinn's head on to the floor behind the couch. Santana returned her arms to rest on Quinn's shoulders, nearly pushing her breasts into Quinn's—they were begging to be touched, licked…something, Quinn thought. The heady pulse of the music continued, an interlude between verses. Santana ground her hips with more pressure into Quinn's, and this time, the blonde responded by matching Santana's roll of her hips, earning a satisfied smirk from the brunette moving sensually above her.

_You can have my isolation_

_You can have the hate that it brings_

_You can have my absence of faith_

_You can have my everything._

Santana leaned forward, which caused hard nipples to brush against Quinn's chest, and husked this last line in Quinn's ear. The simultaneous feel of Santana's skin and the low voice in her ear made Quinn dizzy. That was it; she couldn't take this sweet torture any longer. She slid her hands up firm thighs to push the skirt up around Santana's waist, giving Quinn a full view of Santana's wet heat. The blonde moaned at the sight and the smell, and Santana accentuated the movement of her hips, silently begging for Quinn's touch. Santana continued moving against Quinn and brought her hands up to her breasts and started kneading them, pinching hard nipples. Quinn growled as she watched Santana's hands, and in a swift move, she swatted them away, replacing them with her own.

Quinn's hands quivered with need, and she replaced one hand with her mouth and sucked a nipple into her mouth, running her tongue furiously over it. Santana groaned at the attention being lavished on her and her head lulled back, thick hair waving loosely over her shoulders and against her back. "Quinn…god," Santana moaned. The blonde moved her hands over thighs, up a supple back, and continued pulling, sucking on Santana's delectable skin.

The music continued but neither woman heard the lyrics, and their hips danced in harmony to their own rhythm. Santana's restraint was slipping away rapidly, and she grabbed one of Quinn's hands, which felt so good roughly clawing at her lower back, and slid it over her leg, poising it on her inner thigh. "Please, baby," implored Santana. Quinn released the bruised nipple from her mouth and glanced up at Santana who was the picture of ecstasy. Quinn couldn't contain the whimper at the vision before her. "Please what, Santana?" Quinn demanded.

Santana released the blonde's wrist and used both hands to grab either side of Quinn's face. She held Quinn's gaze and growled, "Please…fuck me like an animal." She smiled sensually and winked at Quinn, who returned the grin. Quinn broke the lingering look to glance down. She inhaled and let out a low whimper.

"Wider," the blonde demanded, "and don't stop moving." Santana complied and shifted her knees further away from Quinn's legs, her hips still moving to the pulsating beat. "Holy fuck," Quinn whispered with a low sigh. She licked her lips at the delicious sight before her, pleading for her touch with every slow, sensual roll of the hips. Quinn slid both hands up Santana's inner thighs, feeling taut muscles working under smooth skin. She slowly dragged one finger through thick wetness, groaning on the long-awaited contact. Santana, who had been watching the blonde intently, could only growl in response, "Quinn," she said with a feral, insistent tone. Quinn smiled, never taking her eyes off the movement of her finger through soft folds.

"God, yes," Quinn whispered as she pushed two fingers into Santana's very wet, warm entrance. "Oh sweet Jesus," Santana exhaled, as she felt Quinn fill her. The brunette moved her hips more forcefully, riding Quinn's hand now. The blonde grasped Santana's hip, guiding her against her fingers. "Yes, baby. Fuck yes," Quinn moaned as she watched Santana's open, wet pussy suck her fingers in with every move of her hips. The blonde curled her fingers with every thrust, knowing that the woman writhing above her was getting close.

Quinn glided her hand away from Santana's hip, and she softly ran her thumb over Santana's painfully hard, throbbing clit. The brunette bucked her hips violently at the touch and grabbed the back of Quinn's head to steady herself. Quinn moaned at the rough pull at her hair and pushed her fingers even deeper into Santana.

"Look at me. I want you to see what you do to me," Santana insisted with a soft, thick voice. Quinn's darkened hazel-green eyes rose to meet nearly black-brown. For a moment, time stopped, as they looked passed eyes and into each other, reaffirming all that they had been through and where they were going. Quinn broke the spell with another thrust of her fingers and another swipe of her thumb over Santana's clit.

"Fuck, Quinn! Yes! Don't stop!" Santana yelled, with her tossed back and with a vehement grip on Quinn's hair. Quinn leaned in and kissed the soft skin before her, feeling rather than hearing Santana's heavy breathing. With a violent arch of her back, which thrust her hips forward taking Quinn's fingers even deeper, Santana came hard, eliciting a carnal, guttural moan from her that vibrated through Quinn. The blonde held on as Santana crashed over and over again.

As the brunette came down, her hips slowed, and she pressed her forehead into Quinn's. A blanket of silence enveloped them except for ragged, uneven breathing. Santana opened her eyes as Quinn slowly removed her fingers. The brunette had a brief second to catch Quinn in a moment of pure bliss—her eyes were closed; she had a sweet smile on her face. Then, Quinn opened her eyes and brought her fingers to her mouth; she slowly sucked the remains of Santana off of her two fingers while Santana watched and moaned at the erotic sight. "So good," whispered Quinn, her voice heavy with want.

Santana closed the short distance between them with a smoldering kiss that was all tongue and passion and aggression. Quinn wrapped her hands around Santana's waist and pulled her even closer. They battled for dominance but neither wanting to win. Then, Santana pulled back to look at Quinn.

With a tender hand on the blonde's cheek, Santana smiled and quipped, "Any other wagers you want to make? Because, I'm all for making a bet with a Fabray."

Quinn chuckled, "Oh I'm sure I can come up with something." They smiled at each other, remaining in silence for a moment until Santana realized that the song was still playing (on repeat). She inched off of Quinn slightly and pushed the blonde forcefully down to the couch. She then slithered on top of her, hovering over her looking ready to pounce, to devour.

"I think I should do what the song says, don't you?" Santana asked with a low growl and dove in to claim Quinn in a fiery kiss.

_Help me_

_Tear down my reason_

_Help me_

_It's your sex I can smell_

_Help me_

_You make me perfect_

_Help me become somebody else_

_I want to fuck you like an animal._

_Fin_.


End file.
